Chryed Roberto
by Mushroom Hair
Summary: It's getting hot in here.


"Why do I have to do it?"

Syed turned pleading eyes to Christian who was dashing about the flat looking for his keys.

"Shift over" he stuffed his hands down the back of the sofa behind Syed and pulled out the jangling bunch triumphantly.

"Got them. Because I stayed in all day last time and no one showed up. I've got six clients this afternoon, think of the money."

Syed folded his arms grumpily and slumped against the cushions.

"But it's boring, sitting here waiting. Can't we just turn it off? Or open a window?"

Christian grabbed his jacket from behind the door and explained patiently,

"If we turn it off we'll freeze to death and if we open a window the flat and all our clothes will smell delectably of battered sausage. How will people take me seriously when I'm trying to teach them how to get fit if I smell of fish supper?"

Syed grunted in defeat.

"Fair point. We could be naked indoors at all times?" he suggested optimistically.

Christian zipped up the front of his coat with a flourish.

"I like your thinking, but then I'd never be able to leave to get any work done, and we'd be found wrapped around each other dead of starvation and exhaustion."

Syed leaned his head back and laughed.

"What a way to go. He will come this time won't he?"

Christian bent down and kissed him firmly.

"Yes. They promised. Watch 'Murder She Wrote' or 'Bargain Hunt' or something. You know how much you fancy David Dickinson. See you later."

Syed picked up the remote control from beside him.

"Yeah right, must be because he reminds me of you. Be good. Don't pull a muscle."

The door slammed and Syed listened to Christian's departing feet down the stairs. The central heating, blasting relentlessly away on the highest temperature, had started to make him sweat and he fanned himself with one hand as he flicked listlessly through the television channels.

He fell asleep half way through Midsomer Murders and woke with a start to insistent buzzing. Rubbing his eyes he stumbled to the entry phone and told the gas man to come up.

Syed had made three cups of thick brown tea and listened to several interesting facts about boilers and was beginning to want to claw out his own eyes at the tedium. He was just debating whether or not it might appear odd if he locked himself in the toilet when his mobile phone started to vibrate. Seeing Christian's name flash up on the screen, a mischievous grin slowly spread across his face.

"Hey!"

He could hear the sounds of the market in the background and Christian's breath as he walked.

"Hey. Has he been yet?"

Syed settled into a chair, pressing the handset close to his ear to cover up the loud metallic banging from behind him.

"He's here now." he half covered the mouthpiece and called across to the kitchen. "Roberto, can you put it a bit higher?"

He happily noticed the slight pause before Christian spoke.

"Roberto? That's a bit glamorous. Has he fixed the thermostat yet?"

"He's Italian and he's fixing it up a treat. Still strangely hot in here though. Do you need me to hand you that big tool?"

"What?"

Syed bit his knuckles to stop himself from laughing at the outraged tone in Christian's voice.

"Sorry, I was talking to Roberto. I've been helping him, we make quite a team. He's from Venice, just paying his way through drama school."

There was a quiet hiss at the other end of the line.

"Really. How nice, Make sure he gets the job done properly."

"He's doing it very well, very well indeed."

Syed giggled quietly as the phone went dead and looked at his watch, starting to count the minutes.

Only ten went by before he heard the key in the lock. The gas man packed away his tool box and pulled up his trousers to cover the hairy bum cleavage that had been on display throughout his visit. He ran a hand through his sparse grey hair, handing over an invoice.

"Shouldn't give you any more trouble Guv." He smiled gap toothed at Christian who had just hurried in and was standing open mouthed by the door.

Syed ushered him past.

"Thanks Bert."

As he huffed and puffed his twenty stone frame out into the square, Syed turned to Christian and winked.

"Gotcha."

Christian smiled and poked him gently in the stomach. Moving closer, he murmured;

"Yes you have. And as I've cancelled the rest of my day, I'm putting my dungarees on. I'm afraid you're going to have to join me in one of my favourite games, showing the gas man round the back of the flat."


End file.
